Dieing

Jan is dieing and I haven’t wanted to face it. Don’t want to admit. Have watched her gradual slip downward into increasingly bad health over the past couple years. This week she’s given in to the heavy duty cold that has been going through the rest of the town and caused havoc. Only this time, I’m not sure she can beat it. She’s nothing but skin and bones and has no strength. I lay awake in bed at night, listening to her panting, between violent spurts of coughing. Desperate, short, shallow gasps of breath that shake the whole bed, yet fail to deliver enough oxygen into her shrunken lungs. Her body has become even more shrunken and shriveled, like a dried up apple, along with her appetite. I alternate between feeling enough courage and willingness for both of us to make it through this long ordeal; using bright, positive visualization and deep breathing of my own. Smiling and believing all will be well. Then fall into my own secret grief and depression, resenting the increasing amount of work and responsibility that fall on my shoulders. I alternate between denial, acceptance and deep resentment. Between wanting her to regain her total healthy self (which I can barely remember now) and wishing her dead. Now.

Last night I lay awake beside Jan, listening to a new sound. . the rattling of liquid as she breathes. Fearing Pneumonia. She has an appointment at the clinic today and I will to take her. She struggles bravely, fiercely and with frustration. Alternates between courage, bravery, softness and depression. We fight. We blame. We resent and hate one another. We embrace and cry together. We fight the inevitable loss. I lose a little more of her by the day. Will she simply pass over when she stops her brave, angry, stubborn determination to live?

I am becoming brave too. I alternate between great peace and worry. What will I do? I want to escape and yet find joy at the oddest of moments. I alternate between feeling stuck and free. Somehow, I’m Being Here And Now with it all. Riding the waves of the moment and feeling alive.

Right now, I wish I could breath just ONE deep, rejuvenating breath for my beloved. Take on her suffering and make it all disappear. Restore vigor to her life. . . our lives as we once were together. I love her deeply. Wish to leave her now that she’s dieing. Don’t want to. Would leave tomorrow if I could. Love her deeply. Resent her choice of slow death. Thank her for every moment of my life with her.